


The Stumptown Synergy Job

by Pennyplainknits



Category: Leverage
Genre: Getting Together, Multi, Not Beta Read, Portland Oregon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennyplainknits/pseuds/Pennyplainknits
Summary: The City of Roses hooks her thorns into them all.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer, Mr. Quinn/Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 73





	The Stumptown Synergy Job

“So is it just Hardison, or Parker too?” 

Eliot pauses in pulling on his shirt to look back across the bed at Quinn.

“Is what Hardison or Parker too?”

“That you’re in love with,” Quinn asks.

Eliot pushes his hair back behind his ears. It’s a tell, but one small enough to let show.

“You don’t sleep with your crew,” he says.

Quinn just raises a mocking eyebrow and jerks his head at the mess they’ve made of his hotel room bed.

“You’re _not_ my crew,” Eliot says firmly. It really should be self-explanatory, he thinks.

“And you didn’t answer my question.” Quinn says. He pulls his own hair, still a mess from Eliot’s hands, into a bun, then pings a spare elastic to Eliot. Eliot catches it automatically and twists his hair back. The tiny braid with the bone bead that Parker wove into his hair swings forward like an accusation.

“Hey, I get it.” Quinn continues, apparently not needing an answer. “Hardison’s a damn fine looking kid and Parker-”

Eliot shifts his weight, on edge. If the next words out of Quinn’s mouth are anything like the shit he’s had to ignore from Cha0s this week they’ll be the last words he ever says.

“Easy, Spencer,” Quinn says, going to far as to poke Eliot’s thigh with a toe, “I was going to say, Parker is extraordinary.”

“She is,” Eliot relaxes, hands soft on the bed.

“What was that about-oh, Chaos.” Quinn smiles a little.

“You have any idea how many times I wanted to punch him this week?” Eliot asks, leaning back against the headboard.

“About half as many times as I did,” Quinn says. “Next time I want geek danger money.”

Eliot laughs, “you got plenty.” He tucks the braid back behind his ear, running his finger over the bead. He’s building quite a collection, carved wood, painted Roman clay, a rough green bead that he thought was sea glass but which turned out to be an uncut peridot. Parker brings a new one each time, a magpie sharing treasure. He knows what it means that he lets Parker braid what he suspects is a museum’s worth of treasure into his hair. Hardison always looks indulgent as he watches Paker work, hands weaving quickly as Eliot sits on the floor at her feet.

“Where did you just go?” Quinn asks. 

Eliot shakes his head, realising he’s still rubbing the pads of his fingers over the incised dots and letting his mind wander.

“Fine,” he says angrily, smoothing his hand over Parker’s gift, “Fine yes it’s both of them, satisfied?”

Quinn smiles, just this side of mocking. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to use it against you. I don’t care if you want to fuck your whole crew.”

Eliot can’t keep the look off his face when he thinks of doing anything even remotely intimate with Nate. The same look flashes across Quinn’s face and they both look at each other for a few seconds before Eliot laughs.

“But seriously, Spencer. What are you going to do?” Quinn knocks his fist against his shoulder. 

“Keep them safe. That’s my job.” Eliot says. 

The housekeeping cart rattles in the corridor outside. It’s past time for Quinn to leave for his flight, but he just settles back against the pillows like he’s not going anywhere 'til he gets the answer he wants from Eliot.

“You’re not going to tell them?”

“Where would that get me? Besides, they have each other and I’m fine with that. I don’t need more than knowing that they are my crew and that I trust them.” Eliot says, keeping his voice perfectly level.

“Well I see why Sophie’s the grifter, you can’t lie for shit,” Quinn says. 

“I can lie just fine.” Eliot says. Quinn just looks at him, waiting, so he continues. “Well, What do you want me to say? That I’m afraid that it will put them in danger? I am. Even _you_ can’t imagine some of my enemies and they’d be-” Eliot smiles ruefully “leverage.”

“Everyone already knows Eliot Spencer rolls with a permanent crew now.” Quinn finally gets out of bed and steps into his suit pants, pulls a fresh shirt out of the wardrobe. “Shit, I’m late” he says half to himself. “They wouldn’t be in any more danger than they are already- you’ve been with them for four years. That’s leverage no matter what.” Quinn moves quickly round the room stuffing things into his duffle. Eliot winces internally at the mess but helps by tossing him the shirt and tie he’d pulled off of Quinn the night before. Quinn shrugs into his underarm sheath and slides his knife into it. “Besides, much as it pains me to say it, you’re still one of the best. You can take care of them. What do you have to lose?”

“My family,” Eliot says, realising the utter truth of it as he says it. 

Quinn does a last circuit of the room and ducks into the bathroom. Eliot hears water running.

“Hey, I don’t care one way or the other,” Quinn says around his toothbrush. “I just think this is the first time I’ve ever seen Eliot Spencer scared.

“I’m twenty years too old for that to work.” Eliot huffs. “I’m not going to be motivated by you calling me a coward.”

“Didn’t call you a coward,” Quinn raises his voice over the running water. Eliot hears him rinse and spit, then he comes out of the bathroom, dopp kit in hand. He shoves it into the corner of the duffle and zips it closed. “But we’ve just spent a week together and not killed each other. In fact, I’d say we had fun,” He looks Eliot up and down with a heated flick of his eyes. “Maybe try something else new. You’re never too old to learn my friend.”

Eliot rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest when Quinn pulls him into a hug and kisses the top of his head. “Been a pleasure working with you. Now get out, I have a plane to catch”.

Eliot grasps Quinn’s arm and gives it a shake, then kisses his cheek. “Watch your back, Quinn.” He heads for the door.

“Always do. Oh, and Spencer? You ever want Chaos taken care of, I won’t even charge.”

Eliot laughs all the way out into the corridor.

X

Eliot takes the summer for himself like always, works some solo jobs, spends a week in Japan in total silence, and tries to put Quinn’s suggestion out of his mind.

When he finds his way back to the crew there’s plenty to occupy him. The Northwest humidity makes his hair frizz, and Hardison’s brewpub has a shitty range that needs to be ripped out and replaced before he can make anything even approaching a decent menu. Nate and Sophie are living together somewhere near her theatre. Hardison tries and fails to brew a decent porter. Parker becomes a shadowy legend among the Portland parkour community. The City of Roses has hooked her thorns into them all.

Paying Tony back, seeing a restaurant full of people fed with the skills he taught him makes something loosen and unfurl in Eliot’s chest, the same warm contentment he feels when Parker and Hardison lean against the counter to watch him cook, stealing bites when his back is turned or tasting the spoon he holds out to them. The last bits of ice that Damian Moreau infused in him melt and flow away.

(After they've been in Portland abut eight months he gets a single text from Quinn. A distant but perfectly focused shot of Chaos, riding the Duquesne incline, with the note _offer still stands_. Eliot deletes it without answering. If he doesn't ask Quinn why he's in Pittsburgh he doesn't have to work out if he should stop him)  
  
It’s good. They’re all good. He lets Parker braid his hair, tugging enough to distract him whenever it looks like he’s going to beat Hardison in their ongoing Mario Kart tournament. Learns exactly when to hit Marsee bakery to get the sourdough pain d’epi straight out of the oven. Has the best steak of his life with Nate, out of a literal hole in the wall next to a strip joint, while they wait for one of the dancers to bring them a job. Takes long walks with Sophie as she tries diner after diner and smiles at the look on her face as he joins in her conversation with the elderly owners of her eventual favourite.

(“I didn’t know you spoke Yiddish,” She says, looping her arm through his as they walk out into the fine rain.

“Got to keep some secrets, sweetheart,” he says.

She laughs, calls him _shkots_ fondly, and makes him practice his pickpocketing all through the Pearl district.)

The thing in his chest loosens, softens, puts down roots. If he notices that Parker and Hardison sit closer, lean on him, draw him more and more into their orbit, he tells himself it’s because they are a good team. That he can care for them, and look after them, and that this careful balance is enough, more than enough.

After DC, after Parker’s silent goodbye, after Hardison’s genius, after two bullet holes and one terrifyingly near miss, the scales tip.

X

Eliot’s stacking their plates to load into the dishwasher when Parker suddenly springs up, so fast Eliot takes a step backwards, plates wobbling.

“Eliot, _wait_ ,” she says, an edge of urgency in her voice.

“Parker...” Hardison says, from his spot on the couch.

“No,” Parker makes a sharp gesture with her hand. “I know i agreed to try it your way when we spoke about this but he’s not as _smart_ as you, he won’t-”

“Hey,” Eliot says, cutting her off. Parker almost never rambles like this, that’s more Hardison’s speed. Something’s clearly wrong. He sets the plates back down. “Is everything all right?” Both Parker and Hardison look look stricken, Parker’s eyes tight, Hardison wearing the expression he gets when the con goes all to shit.

“Yes,” Hardison says at the same time as Parker says

“No,”passionately. She tugs him back down to sit on the sofa and, unusually for her, keeps a hold of his hand. “Hardison said you’d figure it out, that we had to be patient and wait 'til you were settled with us in Portland. But you’re so settled! You stay here all the time, you only go back to your place for clothes, your knives are here, but you still haven’t figured it out and after DC I can’t , we can’t-”

“You could have _died_.” Hardison sounds choked. “We all could have died and you wouldn’t have known. Man puts two bullets into you all we would’d’ve had was one damn look. No last words, no goodbye, you the other side of the train car and-” he’s speaking faster and faster now, voice rising in the half panic it gets when his mouth, even his mouth, can’t keep up with his brain. Parker shakes his hand a little and Eliot looks across at her. They don’t need much in the way of words sometimes, and this time he sees _listen. This is important_ in the set of her jaw and look in her eyes.

“And we’ve tried to be patient,” Hardison continues, quicker and quicker. “You know I can wait and I didn’t want to rush, because me and Parker, we took our time and it’s great and we’re both here but we thought you’d get it, you make us breakfast, we learned how to may your tea which, by the way, is disgusting tea that sweet should be iced not hot, and we thought you had to get it but you _aren’t_ getting it and you'll throw yourself in front of fist and guns and knives for us but you don’t know-”

“Alec,” Parker says,and she flaps her other hand at him. Hardison takes a couple of deep breaths, which gives Parker space to say:

“You don’t know, So we have to tell you. We want you to be with us. Not just as crew. As partners. We want you to stay with us.” The curl at the right corner of her mouth says _please_.

“In the apartment?” Eliot says over the hope blossoming in his chest because this is important and he wants to be sure.

“You’re not that dumb,” Hardison says, raising an eyebrow.

“You really want me to say it?” Parker says,

“I kind of need you to,” Eliot says softly, not quite believing it.

“In our apartment. In our bed. We love you. Don’t make us go into another situation like last week without you knowing how we feel. We want you with us, always. Will you stay?” She’s gripping his hand so hard it hurts and Eliot gently untangles their figures.

“Parker. Sweetheart.” He touches her cheek, her loose hair tickling the back of his hand. “You know I’ll always have your back.” He looks over Parker’s head to Hardison, slouched back in the L of the sofa, long, long legs stretched out, foot resting against Parker’s ankle “Both of your backs. If this is because last week gave you a fright and you’re worried I won’t always be there, I promise I will.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she says sharply. She covers his hand with her own and closes her eyes briefly. Hardison shifts forward and hooks his ankle round Parker’s. “Even if Nate and Sophie decide to go straight and leave us, Hardison and I can easily steal enough to outbid anyone that might want to hire you.”

Eliot laughs and so does Hardison. He scoots forward so he can lean his chin on Parker’s shoulder, and Eliot’s faced with the two of them, the carved lines of Hardison’s cheekbones, Parker’s smile like a secret. Parker’s wearing a grey beanie that used to be Hardison's, and Eliot realises the blue bandana round Hardison’s neck is his own, lost (or so he thought) two jobs ago. 

“We know you’re part of our crew,” Hardison says. “Parker and I want you to be part of _us_. We don’t need a hitter. We need an Eliot.”

Parker smiles encouragingly. She’s letting herself be open, which tells Eliot how important this is to her, and well. Hardison will do pretty much anything for her up to and including a round the world rappelling holiday. Even with exactly what he wants right in front of him, Eliot has to make sure.

“We?” he asks, looking straight into Hardison’s eyes, looking for the microexpressions of tension “Are you sure about that?”

Something flickers, uncertainty, and Hardison blinks.

“Yes, unless, is it only Parker?”

“Alec,” Parker says, warningly “It’s both of us.”

Hardison kisses her cheek “We talked about this. I might be a dealbreaker, we don’t even know if Eliot likes guys.”

“I do,” Eliot says at the same time as Parker rolls her eyes and says

“He does” with frustrated emphasis.

“Woah, woah OK,” Hardison holds his hands up “I’m just saying I’ve seen you hitting on plenty of women but I’ve never seen you with a guy.”

Parker tilts her temple to Hardison’s. “He likes when you wear suits.” 

She’s not wrong but Eliot’s a little perturbed that he was apparently so obvious that _Parker_ noticed which means Sophie definitely noticed and is saving it to extract some kind of favour.

“Oh,” Hardison lifts his chin, preening and looking exactly as young as he is, 26 and flying on the wings of his own genius. “Of course. They’re good suits.”

“If you haven’t seen me with a guy you weren’t looking hard enough,” Eliot says. “You know, Quinn asked me if I was in love with both of you.”

“I don't see what that has to do with anything?” Hardison says.

“We were in bed at the time,” Eliot says. “It was so obvious even he could see it.”

Parker sucks in a breath. 

“Quinn....that was nearly a year ago,” Hardison says “and you haven’t seen him since.”

“It’s creepy that you know that,” Eliot says, though he’s long realised that you don’t disappear if Alec Hardison wants to keep tabs on you.

“And what did you say?” Parker asks “Are you?”  
  
“Am I what?” Eliot teases, because Parker’s already leaning forward, Hardison letting her have space.

Parker pokes him in the biceps. “In love with us?”

“So much.” Eliot says. “Both of you. I love you so much.”

The last word is swallowed up in the firm press of Parker’s mouth to his. She kisses him like that one, twice, then her strong hands are cupping the back of his neck for a proper kiss. It’s slow and thorough, Eliot’s being learned like lock, Parker’s tongue sliding inside and cracking him open.

She pulls back with a shuddery breath, half a laugh, and Eliot opens his eyes. She looks at him, then hides her face into his shoulder like she does sometimes. When being known, being seen, is still a little too overwhelming. He touches her hair gently. Somewhere behind her he hears Hardison make a little noise, soft.

“Hey Eliot,” she murmurs into his skin. “You should go kiss our guy.” She shuffles to one side to make room. Eliot looks up at Hardison, at his beautiful open smile, and cocks his head in a silent “come here.” 

The smile turns challenging. “I’m good here,” Hardison says, leaning back against the couch and stretching his arms out along the back.

“Hardison,” Parker says, nudging him with her toe.

“Babe, he orders me around enough as it is, I’m not setting a precedent here.”

Eliot is in love with the most frustrating man.

“Damn it Hardison I-”

“OH!” Hardison all but shouts. “Westley” he makes a gesture with his hand like he’s inviting Parker and Eliot to agree with him.

 _You have any idea what he’s talking about_ Parker asks with a raised eyebrow.

 _He’s your boyfriend_ Eliot says with a tilt of his head.

 _Ours_ Parker reminds him with a curl of her hand.

Hardison is still making an excited gesture so Eliot says

“No. Eliot.”

“And every time Eliot said Damn It Hardison he really meant I love you,” Hardison says, ignoring Parker’s insistent toe pokes. He’s not making any more sense so Eliot looks to Parker again.

“Don’t ask me,” she shrugs, “All I know is that it’s not Star Wars.”

Hardison opens his mouth and Eliot recognises the sign of an incoming geek spiral. He slides into Hardison’s lap.

“Oh,” Hardison says, looking up at him for once. “Oh, ok,” and then he’s kissing him, gripping his hips and pressing up into him and Eliot’s jumping, thirty stories up and no parachute and not even minding the fall.

Parker kisses Hardison as soon as he pulls away, then kisses Eliot too. Hardison’s hands tighten on his hips.

“Say it, Alec,” she says, reaching for Eliot’s hand and twisting their fingers together. He runs his thumb over her knuckles.

“Say what?”

“I was right. Eliot would never have said anything. We had to tell him.”

“You were right,” Hardison says easily. He picks up Parker and Eliot’s joined hands and kisses them. “I just don’t get why though.” He curls his long fingers around Eliot’s spare wrist then links their fingers together His hands are always soft, typing calluses on the tips of his fingers. Parker’s are strong and rough from ropes and handholds. Hands to steal diamonds and topple governments and they hold Eliot’s hands like they are holding him together.

“Hardison thought you’d know how we felt,” Parker says. “You helped me in the cave, and Alec when he was being weird about Mattingly. You’re good at feelings. Almost as good as Sophie. But you didn’t say anything.”

Eliot can’t help the smile. It’s the first time that he’s ever been compared to _Sophie_ but he can kind of get it. If nothing else, they both know exactly who they are. Even if that someone is multiple people, in the case of Sophie.

“I was scared.”

“You’re not scared of anything,” Hardison says. “We had the damn plague in our hands and you’re the one who talked me down.”

“Why would you be scared of us?” Parker asks

“Not of you, for you” Eliot explains. “Family makes you vulnerable. You know the kind of people that could come after me. You guys would be a target.

“Lone wolf like you sticks with the same crew for five years, we’d be a target anyway,” Hardison shrugs.

Eliot laughs “That’s exactly what Quinn said. But I also saw how much you love each other. I didn’t feel like I should get in the middle of that.”

“We _want_ you in the middle” Parker says, and squeezes him around the shoulders before pulling him onto the sofa so he’s sitting in between her and Hardison. “See?”

“I bought you a brewpub,” Hardison said. “We made the apartment for the three of us, why do you think there’s a whole music room as well as your heavy bag, you know I don’t use that thing.”

“We made such a good Eliot-trap but you wouldn’t walk into it.” Parker complains.

“I’m not a bear, Parker,” Eliot says.

“You’re as grumpy as one sometimes.” Hardison says, poking him in the side then sliding his hand under the hem of Eliot’s henley, fingertips dancing over his skin.

“I thought you were meant to be wooing me not insulting me,” Eliot says. He tilts his head to kiss Hardison, slow and deep. Parker kisses his neck, working her way up to bite at his jaw, and Eliot gasps at the double sting, Parker’s teeth, and the scrape of Alec’s nails against his side.

“Are we wooing you enough now?” She whispers into his ear.

Eliot twists so he can kiss her properly. Alec nuzzles at his collarbone and he bites back a whine.

“Sweethearts,” He says, eyes closed against the twin assaults, head tipped back against the couch. “I was already wooed.”

X

Eliot wakes to cool empty air in front of him, soft heat at his back, and the feeling of someone watching him. Habit has him keeping his eyes closed, assessing the threat for a few seconds, before he remembers where he is. He cracks his eyes open to see Hardison, propped up on one elbow, looking down at him.

“Were you watching me sleep?” he says.

Hardison dips to kiss his bare shoulder. “Only for a bit. You look good in our bed”.

Eliot raises himself up on his elbows to kiss him. “Where’s Parker?” He knows from jobs that Parker doesn’t always like sleeping close to other people, but the hammock hanging from the high loft ceiling is empty as well.

“Making breakfast,” Hardison murmurs, gently pushing him into the soft mattress and teasing his lips against the stubble on Eliot’s jaw. Just then there’s a metallic crash followed by Parker shouting

“It’s OK! Stay where you are!” 

“Parker is making breakfast?” Eliot says, tipping his head back to give Hardison more room and sliding his hand to rest along his spine. There’s a reason he normally handles the food. Nate doesn’t care, Sophie and Hardison follow the religion of takeout, and Parker’s - unpredictable. Breakfast could be anything from fortune cookies, to the Nate Special: two nips of Irish whiskey and half a sleeve of saltines.

“Mmm we wanted to impress you,” Hardison says in between kisses, lips hovering above Eliot’s. Eliot shifts so his thigh is pressing up between Hardison’s legs and he gets the hint and rocks down in a slow grind.

“Parker defused a bomb upside down last week,” Eliot says, kissing along Hardison’s jaw, feeling his hips hitch. “I’m already impressed.” The sun spills through the high windows, slanting across Hardison’s face, his collarbones, gilding him like a precious statue. “I’m impressed,” he says again.

“You took such a long time to get it, can you blame us for wanting to be sure?” Hardison says. He scratches his hand through Eliot’s hair and Eliot can’t stop the small moan, which just makes Hardison do it again.

“I get it now,” he says, pushing up against him. They’re both starting to get hard, but there’s no rush; Eliot closes his eyes against the sunlight striping Hardison in gold and concentrates instead on the feel of his mouth against his, the breadth of his shoulders.

“Like hell you don’t use that heavy bag,” he says, remembering.

“What?” Hardison asks.

Eliot smooths his hands across the curves of his biceps, the thick muscle of his shoulders, the taper of his torso down to his waist. “You don’t get this body from orange soda and gummy frogs.”

Hardison looks down at him, extremely smug “You saying I’m hot?”

Eliot flips them, because Hardison’s muscles look good, but Eliot’s are for work, and Alec laughs and settles back against the sheets

“Uh huh,” Eliot says and enjoys the choked sounds that Hardison makes when he sucks on the side of his neck. 

They’re drowned out by another crash that lasts several seconds. They pull apart.

“We should probably go check that out. If she’s wrecking my kitchen I should at least be there,” Eliot says.

“Oh it’s your kitchen?” Hardison says, wriggling out from under him and dragging their cocks together in the process. Eliot sucks in a breath at the spark of pleasure. 

“Hey,” Hardison says, cupping him through his shorts and squeezing just once before standing. “Save that for me, huh? We’ll go get our girl and come back here, do this thing properly.”

Eliot takes a couple breaths and then stands, looking for the henley he’d discarded the night before. It’s nowhere to be found.

“Can I borrow a shirt?” he asks.

“But I like the view.” Hardison says.

“You know the clothes in kitchens rule.” Eliot reminds him. “Still stands.” He has lines and kitchen hygiene is important. 

Hardison throws a shirt at him. Eliot catches it and sees his own face, surrounded by Japanese text.

“Seriously?” 

“You’re still big in Japan. I’m that good.” Hardison says, pulling on a purple muscle shirt and herding him out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen.

Parker’s standing in the middle of every single kitchen gadget they own. The leaning tower of cake pans that Eliot had painstakingly fitted into the small cabinet is scattered across the floor.

“I think I see what the crash was” Eliot says.

Parker looks up from the mess and launches herself at him. He catches her with an arm round her back and she wraps her legs round his waist. Eliot steadies her, hands under her thighs, skin warm against his palms. She's wearing his henley, draping down over her collarbones, and still has a pillow crease on her cheek.

“Hi,” she says, and kisses him briefly, hair falling into his face. “You were supposed to stay in bed, I told Alec to keep you occupied while I got food.” 

“I'm not seeing any food, but he did keep me occupied” he says, rocking against her a little so she can feel just how they were occupied. She smiles, small and tucked into the corner of her mouth, and pushes back against him. He sets her on the island but she still keeps one leg hooked round his waist, keeping him close. He can feel the steel-cable strength of her, foot flexed against his back.

“You know he feels about this kitchen, mama,” Hardison says. “And it was a big crash. Had to investigate.” He steps up behind the island and slides his hands onto her shoulders. She tilts her head back to kiss him, leg tightening around Eliot's waist, and he feels the thrum of a circuit completed.

“I was looking for the waffle maker,” she says, “but it's not anywhere.”

“You were making _waffles_?” 

“That was the plan,” she says. “You liked those ones we had in Eugune.”

 _I wanted to talk to you in your language_ she says with a half shrug of her shoulder and incline of her head.

“They were good, but I'd rather have woken up with both of you,” Eliot says, “Like I went to sleep with both of you.” He kisses her again, hand inching up the soft inside of her thigh to brush the hem of her shorts, and she shivers and smiles against his mouth and tilts her head to the side so he can kiss Hardison over her shoulder. Hardison leans forward and tries to kiss both of them at once, which is more a mess than anything else.

“We need to work on that one” he says, wiping the back of his wrist against his mouth, laughing.

“After breakfast,” Parker says firmly. “Once you tell me where the waffle maker is.”

“Somewhere in...all this?” Hardison says. He, unsurprisingly, has a huge weakness for kitchen gadgets and had flat out refused to believe Tony when he'd told him the only thing worth spending any money on in the kitchen was a decent knife.

Eliot's own knives are neatly arranged on a magnetic strip, the twin of his set up in the brewpub downstairs, and that's when he remembers.

“It's downstairs,” he says. “Rhidi needed it for the peach waffle sundae special last week.”

Parker nods sharply like she's making a decision, and slides off the island, making her way to the bright row of cereal boxes next to the coffee maker. “Cereal?” she says, picking up the nearest box and handing it to Hardison.

“Crunchy...maple...ladders” Hardison reads, as if he doesn't know what he has in his own kitchen. “Works for me.” He shrugs.

“What if I want waffles now,?” Eliot asks, stepping carefully over a spiralizer and the scattered parts of a cookie press.

“Cereal now, waffles later,” Parker says, herding them both up the stairs. “Seeing as you started without me.”

“You weren't there,” Eliot says again. 

“I'm here now,” she says softly, She leans into kiss Eliot, fingers on the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and off. 

“Mmm you are,” Eliot whispers as she runs appreciative hands over his biceps “So what's the plan?” 

Alec closes the bedroom door and sets the box on the side table. Eliot feels his warmth behind him, then the touch of lips on the back of his neck. “I made you wait,” he murmurs into his ear, and the tickle of his breath makes Eliot shiver. Parker notices, and lips his other ear. Eliot feels the whine in the back of his throat. “We can get you first, seems fair and all.”

“No,” Eliot says, then graps Alec's hand to stop him moving “I'm not _rejecting you_ you idiot, I'm just not a teenager any more. I can wait because I'm only going to be able to go once.”

“Ok old man” Alec says fondly, and Eliot would protest, but he did kind of walk into that one. Plus. Parker is walking him back towards the bed, tugging so they all tumble onto it and then shoving the covers down. She wriggles out of her polka dot shorts and sends Eliot's henley after them. She leans against the headboard, glowing in a bright splash of sunlight that spills across Alec's naked back and shoulders as he leans down to kiss her. He cups her face in both hands like she's the most precious thing in the world, and Eliot feels so lucky to see something so beautiful. Parker's breath is coming a little faster as she arches up against Alec, kicking one leg out. Eliot shifts to the side of the bed, out of kicking range, and to get a better view. He slides his hand into his shorts, just for a little relief, but he can be patient.

“Hey,” Parker says, her face flushed a little, hand digging into Alec's side “You should come help Alec get me off.”

“Show me?” Eliot asks. Alec kisses him, slide of his tongue filthy, and says

“I'll give you all the hands on training you need.”

X

Hardison mashes his face into Eliot's hip, breath slowing down. His eyes are closed but he waves his hand in the air, flapping at Eliot until Eliot catches on and does their handshake, then lets his hand drop and rest on the wing of Hardison's shoulder blade.

The bathroom door clicks closed and Parker climbs back into bed, cereal box in hand. She kisses Eliot's cheek and smooths careful fingertips over Alec's head, petting him. Hardison sighs and snuggles further into the mattress.

“Good job people,” Hardison says sleepily, lips brushing Eliot's skin. 

“We wear you out?” Eliot asks, “Now who's the old man huh?”

“He had some kind of game thing this week with his elf friends,” Parker says. “He hasn't really been sleeping at night.”

“Orcs” Hardison corrects, without lifting his head. “Would've rescheduled if I'd known.” His voice is sinking into sleep again.

“Orcs, seriously?” Eliot says. 

Parker laughs, a short “ha!” and tilts the box towards Eliot.

“Cereal?” she offers. 

“Sure, not like I'm going anywhere,” Eliot says. He takes a handful. It actually does taste vaguely like maple.

They crunch their cereal in companionable silence. Parker pokes him in the calf with her toe, then hooks their ankles together and rests her head on his shoulder. 

“Hey,” she says after a few minutes. “You know this thing's not going to be normal, right?”

She's looking straight ahead. Eliot doesn't try to make eye contact, he can read enough from the set of her hands and angle of her shoulders.

“What's normal for us, anyway? Who needs it when I have you both?”

Parker eats another handful of cereal, piece by careful piece.

“I said the same to Alec,” she said. “This stuff. Can be hard to figure out sometimes for me.”

“What did he say?” he asks, voice soft.

“Said I know,” Hardison says. He blinks his eyes open and rolls onto his back so he can look at them both. “Hey.” He smiles up at them, then sits up and gestures for the cereal box, Parker passes it over.

“Back with us?” Eliot teases.

“We'll figure us- and-Eliot out” Hardison says, ignoring him. ”Just like you figured you-and-me out.” 

“Like a lock.” Parker nods. “You can't force it. You have be careful. Be fiddly. I'm good at locks.” She picks up his hand and holds it. 

“Mmmhmmm,” Eliot says, waiting. 

“People are like locks,” Parker says, “But I think. I think relationships are like security systems. You can have a lock, and an iris scanner, and heat sensors. And each works ok alone, but together, they're harder to crack.”

Eliot squeezes her hand. Hardison kisses his cheek, tucking Eliot's hair behind his ear, then reaches across and does the same to Parker. 

“What does that make us, babe?” Hardison asks, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Parker's smile is radiant.

“A Steranko.” she says.

**Author's Note:**

> Shkots is Yiddish for rascal. Gina Bellman is Jewish, I thought it would be fun if Sophie was too.
> 
> The paratroopers Eliot served with introduced him to super-sweet builder's tea. Hardison is not a fan.
> 
> The Steranko is the uncrackable safe of the Leverage 'verse.


End file.
